


Still Standing

by track_04



Category: Gomorra - La Serie | Gomorrah (TV)
Genre: Affectionate Insults, Biting, M/M, Rough Kissing, Rough Oral Sex, Thank-God-You're-Alive-Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-02-24 16:27:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21820936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/track_04/pseuds/track_04
Summary: When Ciro returns from Spain, Rosario is there. Like always.
Relationships: Ciro Di Marzio/Rosario Ercolano
Comments: 1
Kudos: 10
Collections: Flash Fuck: Round One (2019)





	Still Standing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NeverwinterThistle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeverwinterThistle/gifts).



"This is bullshit." Ciro slammed the door behind him and stalked past Rosario. The floorboards creaked beneath his weight and he stopped, kicking over the empty metal wastebasket that had been left behind by a previous tenant, a reminder that this shitty apartment had belonged to someone before he'd decided they needed somewhere to stay when they couldn't go home. The clatter it made as it rolled across the floor only made his restlessness worse.

"She'll be there tomorrow," Rosario said, taking a seat on the worn-out couch and lighting a cigarette. He draped an arm over the back and watched Ciro, looking relaxed and far too patient. Ciro couldn't decide if it made him want to punch him or take a seat beside him on the couch, see if he could breathe some of that patience into himself along with the second-hand smoke. "And we'll stay there until she agrees to talk to you."

"I shouldn't have to wait until tomorrow! She should have been there today." He bypassed the couch and moved to stand in front of one of the room's dirty windows instead, his footsteps heavy and his voice loud in the face of Rosario's quietness. "I almost died in Spain. For _them_. The least she can do is have enough respect for me to be there to talk to me when I return."

"Of course she should," Rosario said, still sounding too-calm. It was either his best or worst trait, this ability to be so reasonable in the face of Ciro's rage. "It's bullshit, but we can't do anything about it tonight."

"I could go light their house on fire," Ciro said and kicked the wall, making the window rattle. A man in the apartment below them shouted something and banged loudly on the ceiling. He kicked the wall again and listened to the man swear below him. He thought about going down there to show the man just how loud he could be, but he could see Rosario out of the corner of his eye, smoking and watching him, and he decided that it wouldn't be worth it. Not this time, anyway.

He kicked the wall again and swore back at the man, deciding that was enough.

"Feel better?"

"What do you think?" Ciro turned his back on the room and rested his hand against the warped wood of the window frame, leaning his weight against it and staring down at the dirty alley below them. "I've given them my life, and this is how they treat me. Like I'm nothing."

The couch gave a soft protest as Rosario shifted his weight. "Do you want me to take you home?"

"No. I won't be able to sleep anyway. We can stay here tonight." He turned away from the window to find Rosario leaning forward, half-off the couch, watching him and waiting for him to give the word. For what, Ciro didn't know; or maybe he just hadn't decided yet, and Rosario knew all he needed to do was give him time to figure it out. "Do you need to call Teresa?"

"No, I told her it might take awhile. She knows how dramatic you are."

"Fuck you." Ciro laughed, startled, some of the tension draining from his shoulders. He rubbed his hand over his head and leaned back against the windowsill, letting out a slow breath. "I'm not that dramatic."

"Sure you're not."

"I got shot, and I almost died. More than once. You should be nice to me."

"You got shot?" The amusement fell from Rosario's face and he rose, crossing the room to stand closer to Ciro than should have been comfortable for either of them. Ciro didn't move or try to lean away. "Where?"

"My arm. It's bandaged, don't worry."

"Don't tell me not to worry." Rosario gripped his cigarette between his lips so he could unzip Ciro's jacket. "Did Conte do it?"

Ciro shook his head, pushing Rosario's hands away so he could shrug off his jacket, putting the bottom edge of the bandage on display. Rosario lifted the sleeve of his t-shirt to examine it, frowning slightly. "Those Russian bastards. When they were shooting up his house. It's just a graze."

Rosario lifted Ciro's arm and turned it to get a better look at the bandage, his frown deepening. "They better not show their faces here any time soon."

"Or what?" Ciro smiled a little, pulling his arm out of Rosario's grasp. "You're going to kill them all for me?"

"Yes." Rosario took one last drag off his cigarette before dropping it onto the floor, crushing it beneath the sole of his shoe. "Next time, I'm going with you."

"They wanted me to go alone. That was the point."

Anger flashed across Rosario's face, an intensity in his expression that people who weren't Ciro rarely got to see. "Fuck what they want."

"Are you going to say that to Donna Imma? Maybe go visit Don Pietro in prison and tell him to his face? Send Gennaro a letter?"

"If I have to."

Ciro reached up to grip the back of Rosario's neck, squeezing gently. There were moments like this one, when Ciro wondered what he'd done to deserve Rosario. "You would, too, wouldn't you? You'd put that target on your back for me."

"Yes."

Ciro laughed, voice low and he closed his eyes and leaned forward, close enough to feel the heat of Rosario's breath against his cheek. "And if you were at the meeting with the Russians, what would you have done? Held the gun to your own head and pulled the trigger."

"You know I would."

"And that's why I can't take you with me," Ciro said, starting to pull away.

Rosario reached up to stop him, gripping the sides of his face to hold him in place as he leaned in, closing the brief space between them to press their mouths together. He kissed him rough and quick, like he was counting down the seconds until Ciro inevitably pulled away, doing his best to make the most of the time left to him and leave whatever mark he could. His fingers dug into Ciro's cheeks and jaw, not gently, doing their best to hold him there.

Ciro surprised them both by kissing him back, mouth equally rough against Rosario's, hand tight against the back of his neck, teeth digging into his lip hard enough to bruise. Rosario made an angry sound and kissed him harder, trying to drown out Ciro's roughness with his own. It was less of a kiss and more of a reminder of all the promises they'd made to each other over the years, of the things Rosario would do for him; it made him remember the day that they'd cut their palms with a piece of broken bottle and pressed their wounds together and made a promise that neither of them had ever broken. Back when spilling blood was still a novel, important thing, and they hadn't realized what a promise like that would mean.

Ciro still had the scar on his palm, faded over the years. He pressed it hard against the back of Rosario's neck and bit at his lip again, wanting to leave another mark behind.

Rosario was the first one to pull away, breaking the kiss with an unsteady sound. He turned his face away but stayed close, his hands reaching between them to fumble with the button on Ciro's fly. He didn't look him in the eye until he'd managed to work his pants open and shoved his hand inside. Fingers wrapped tight around Ciro's cock, he turned his head to meet his eyes, again looking like he was waiting for Ciro to decide what he needed him to do.

"Fuck." Ciro inhaled sharply, and stared back at him, tightening his grip on the back of Rosario's neck and thrusting his hips forward with purpose. Rosario's hand tightened around his cock, grip sharp and possessive. He slid his hand up, tangled his fingers in Rosario's hair and tugged. "Why should I take you with me if you miss me this much when I'm gone?"

"Because you're terrible at waiting for anything," Rosario said, expression determined and fist tight. "And I'm not going to listen next time when you tell me to stay."

Ciro laughed, the sound half-broken, and moved his free hand to Rosario's shoulder. He matched his grip to the one Rosario had on his cock and pushed, enjoying the brief moment of resistance before Rosario gave in, sinking to his knees against the uneven floorboards. He kept his head tilted back as he went, eyes locked on Ciro's as he licked his lips. 

Ciro stared down at him in silence, both of them waiting as he watched Rosario's tongue dart out to wet his lips again, the tip of it dangerously close to Ciro's cock. He swallowed, throat dry as he squeezed Rosario's shoulder once in silent encouragement; it was hard not to admire the easy way that Rosario leaned forward and took his cock into his mouth, not needing anything except that one small signal to know what he wanted.

He let Rosario take him halfway in, reveling in the heat surrounding him, both too-familiar and entirely new. It felt like something they'd always done, or something they should have been doing, or something a part of him had wanted for a long time, even if he refused to let himself consider it too much, even now. Rosario's tongue pressed up against the underside of his cock, adding the perfect amount of pressure, and he thrust forward, enjoying the way Rosario's throat muscles swallowed reflexively against the intrusion, drawing him deeper into that waiting heat. He stroked Rosario's hair appreciatively, hissing softly as he felt the head of his cock bump against the back of Rosario's throat.

"Good--that's good. Just like that," he said, continuing to murmur quiet encouragement as Rosario pulled back, letting part of his cock slip from his mouth. He breathed in harshly through his nose, taking in what air he could, but kept his mouth tight around him. Ciro murmured more encouragement and tightened his fingers in his hair again, using them to guide him forward onto his cock.

Rosario's mouth made wet, hungry sounds as they worked out a rhythm between them, Rosario pulling away and Ciro pulling him back in, sometimes slowly, sometimes quick and desperate, rough enough to make Rosario gag slightly with the effort to swallow around him. Ciro stared down at him, watched the way his eyes watered when Ciro pushed his cock too deep, the way they fluttered shut each time he managed to take him in completely, the way they stole looks at his between thrusts, something in them that Ciro didn't want to place. 

He cupped his free hand around the back of Rosario's neck and felt his muscles go slack, granting silent permission for Ciro to fuck his face as hard and fast as they both wanted. He took it, letting his own head fall back to rest against the window as he pushed his cock forward into that waiting heat, enjoying the way Rosario took everything he gave him. He stroked his hair lightly, a counterpoint to the rough movement of his hips, and tried not to linger on the eagerness of Rosario's mouth around him.

When he came, it was fast and with little warning, his fingers tugging at Rosario's hair as he spilled down his throat. Rosario swallowed around him, taking it all, his hand tightening against Ciro's hip with the effort to hold himself steady.

Ciro finished and pushed him back, hissing softly as he opened his eyes and tipped his head forward, watching as his cock slipped from between Rosario's lips, leaving a damp trail behind. He wished, for a moment, that he'd had the forethought to come on his face instead of down his throat; it would have been nice to see his mark left behind on Rosario's skin. He ran his thumb across Rosario's lip, catching the dampness lingering there, and held it in front of him in silent invitation. Rosario darted his tongue out, licking his skin clean and waiting for Ciro to pull his hand away before he slumped, resting his forehead against Ciro's stomach and breathing in deeply.

Ciro smoothed Rosario's hair back into place, breathing unsteadily and listening to the floorboards creak beneath them as Rosario started to jerk himself off, breath hot through the material of Ciro's t-shirt. He made quick work of it, his neck tensing and back bowing as he came on the floor at Ciro's feet. Ciro mumbled something that might have sounded like praise or appreciation or an endearment, if it had been loud enough for anyone to hear.

They stayed like that as they both caught their breath, Ciro with his hands in Rosario's hair and Rosario kneeling before him, panting softly against his stomach, his hand still wrapped loosely around his cock and a mess on the floor in front of him. Ciro breathed in deeply, glad that the apartment smelled like dust and sweat and the distant rote of the garbage lying in wet piles in the alley below them. It was too dirty, too familiar to be Spain, or any of the things that he'd left behind him there.

Rosario took a deep breath, finally, and sat back on his heels, tucking his cock back into his pants and then doing the same for Ciro; if his fingers lingered a bit longer than necessary, neither of them felt the need to mention it.

Ciro stroked his hair one last time before he stood, body too close to Ciro's, and stared him in the eye. "Whatever you decide to do from now on, I'm coming with you. We do this together."

Ciro thought about arguing just for the hell of it, might have given into the temptation if he felt less dazed and tired, or if he hadn't almost died three times in as many days, or if it had been anyone else saying those words to him. But all those things were true, and it was Rosario, so he clasped his shoulder instead. "Fine, we'll do it together. All of it. Maybe we'll even die together."

"Maybe," Rosario said. For a moment, Ciro thought he might kiss him again, but he didn't. "We'll start tomorrow."

Ciro nodded, stooping to retrieve his jacket from the floor, a small part of him disappointed to see Rosario had managed not to make a mess of it. He slipped it on, ignoring the way he could feel Rosario watching him. "And tonight, you can buy me dinner."

Rosario clucked his tongue and didn't take a step back to make room for him. "I bought dinner last time."

"And I almost died." Ciro slipped an arm around his shoulders, using it to steer him towards the door. "Buying me dinner is the least you can do."

"I'm pretty sure I've done plenty already," Rosario said. There was a bruise forming on his lower lip, just dark enough to see if you knew what to look for. "Where do you want to eat?"

"Somewhere expensive." Ciro ignored Rosario's protests as he dropped his arm from his shoulders and opened the door. "And not Spanish."

"Well, I can manage the last part." Rosario turned to smile at him briefly before heading down the hall.


End file.
